Land Strider
by Vena Sara
Summary: A Stranger walks the frozen lands of Skyrim, the land will shake with her steps and Tamriel will be forever changed.
1. Chapter 1

**"The Stranger" Is a name and title, not a spelling error.**

The troll attacked! An arrow shot out and stuck the trolls' head. The monster screamed in agony and thrashed about wildly, fire flew from a figures outstretched fingers, and the troll died. A tall figure retreated to a tent behind the beast.

Skyrim's chilled air blew gently through the barren trees, snow kicked up and blew in ornate circles through the nights sky. A fire snapped and spat embers in the night, a beacon to travellers, a life line in the dark. Beside it a small fur tent, furs sown together to near perfection and layered in great heaps. At the mouth of the tent sat a Dark Elf or more formally known as Dunmer, skin tinted more blue then ash but it held a warmth that most Dunmer lacked. The Dunmer's hair tumbled freely down her back and into her lap, its lush red waves danced in the wind to match the fire. Her brow was soft and lips small, nose slopping gently inward and came to a point. Her eyes shone with the fires of the volcano Vvardenfell itself.

She tinkered with her steel gauntlet, over the years she had grown distant from the more common armour of Nirn. She smoothed a thumbs' worth of oil on the piece and checked the leather for strength. Skyrims' cold land was almost as harsh on equipment as it was on its people. Sliding the gauntlet on her right hand. It felt strange and light as a feather. She missed her other armour currently kept then all in a specially made magic pocket. She was a traveller now, and a traveller with shiny items was like saying LOOK AT ME to every bandit from this little spat of frozen wastes to Bruma.

She cocked her head to the side and listened, before turning to her tent and pulled a great long bow. Most people would not recognize the bow was Daedric one of the strongest metals on Nirn. This however was no ordinary bow, this one was almost twice the size of a normal one and reenforced to a degree that it would be near impossible for even the strongest Nord or Orc to string much less draw.

Suddenly the Dunmer lept from her seat, her eyes glowing growing with the old spell of Night Eye. The world shifted to a slightly green glow as the spell brought light to it for only her eyes. She soared through the air, twisting as she jumped to face her target pulling the great bow back faster then the eye could follow. Finally landing, with elfish grace her arrow trained on the unsuspecting target.

The Imperial soldier nearly soiled himself at the sight. Never had he seen a person move so fast or with such precision and grace. The way her hair flew to the side in the action, or how serene her face seemed, this imperial had meet many elves they were supposed to be these ethereal creatures. But he had never meet one that lived up to the propaganda that they preached.

The Dark Elf was almost unnaturally tall, towering over him, but was lean even wiry and would have looked gangly without such evident grace. Her armour was incomplete as she only wore boots, greaves, curass and one gauntlet. Her arms were well-toned but not to the extent that they looked like they could pull such a mighty bow. "Magic?" He wondered.

"Identify yourself!" Her voice pinched to slice through the wind with a hard tone that spoke of command.

"Garth of the Imperial Army." He raised his shield in the faint hope it would protect him from that monster of a bow.

"Greetings Garth, would you like to share my fire?" Her voice changed from hard to a much softer tone, and to the Imperial's ears it sounded heavenly. "Tell your companions to come out, I'd hate to have to shoot someone." She smiled. Her face lite up as she giggled at the thought.

Garth swallowed thickly at the idea of someone would giggle at the thought of killing someone, or at how poorly his friends were hidden.

The snow crunched loudly as two more Imperials came over the snow drifts, they gathered around the fire. Sitting back down at the mouth of her tent, she folded long legs under herself. She unstrung her bow and pulling out a long steel sword, and laid it with arms' reach.

"So what brings three frost-bitten Imperials to these frozen mountains in the middle of the night?" She reached back into her tent and pulled another log out and put it in the fire. Letting the flames lick her exposed hand, she almost hummed at the pleasant experience.

The purple-nosed Imperials looked nervously to each other before Garth spoke up. "You first, Dark Elf."

"Alright." The Dunmer pulled off the steel gauntlet, satisfied with its' performance. "I'm just a Stranger, I came up from Bruma and before you think it I went through the check points. I've roamed much of Tamriel and decided Skyrim would be my next stop." She leaned back on her hands in a relaxed gesture.

The party looked surprised at what she gave them for a name, then Garth spoke up again. "Would you come with us to Helgen? There are Stormcloaks in the area and my men and I have been instructed to bring anyone we find with us."

The Stranger sighed. "When must we go?" She nodded to the backpacks of two the other soldiers "You have brought tents, share my fire for the rest of this night. I would rather not walk through the night in unfamiliar lands." She looked beyond there fire and scanned the frozen land, wary for any predators.

Garth slowly nodded, his short brown beard scratching against a scarf. "Alright, that is perfectly reasonable, I've had enough of this cold myself. Ned and John, make camp and lend this kind Dark Elf our fire wood."

The three had the single large fur tent up in minutes, each movement was practised by many nights of putting up and tearing a tent down leading to speed in doing so.

The small party fell into an uneasy silence as they warmed frozen pieces of venison and thawed bottles of mead.

While the Stranger watched the Imperials, she had a feeling that Ned was a Breton. He was the least well-armed and had been playing pack mule for the other two. John was very easily recognizable as a Nord, his Imperial armour was of a heavy make, studded with iron. As he sat he set down a large steel great sword. Garth she assumed was their leader, or the worst in the party at the fine art of stealth. He had a simple steel sword with a standard Imperial kite shield. As they ate, their armour and weapons started to change colour as the warmth of the fire thawed them, the metal went from almost white with frost to the normal grey of steel. As the crusty frost receded, she noted that their arms and armour were of a slightly finer make then normal soldiers. Not a great leap from the usual but just enough to suggest that perhaps they were of a higher standing then the normal grunts. She found this very interesting.

However, the three did not seem inclined to talk, so she raised herself and slide back into the tent, pulled the doors shut and cast both a lock spell and a paralysis rune. She as a general rule did not mind the Imperial faction but this was a bit too suspicions to not layer a few addition protections down.

She listened as the Imperials added a few more logs to the fire and set a watch. A perk to using magic to protect her tent was that watches became less of an issue. A paralysis rune worked best because of all the runes it was the least destructive and its purpose was more to slow any enemies and to wake her up. The night progressed uneventfully. The crack and pop of the fire were the only disruptions.

 _The Stranger walked through a dark red chapel. A tall figure with a golden mask led her among the dead. Their rotten bloated bodies swayed gently, standing on either side of a mottled red and black carpet. The Stranger thought that perhaps this was a wedding celebration. She heard many voices, but no lips moved. Straining to breath, her chest refused to move. The tall figure spoke with each bloated body as he passed among them, laughing and joking, as if they were alive, but they made no reply. She tried to cry out, but without breath, her tongue fluttered in vain._

Stranger lunched upright with a silent scream on her lips, lungs heaving twice before she flopped back down. Rubbing her eyes with a hand, she drew shaken breaths. "Its been two hundred years, will you ever let me sleep in peace, my ancient friend?" The haunted Dunmer closed her eyes and listened. The Imperials were awake and breaking their fast. With a deep sigh, she heaved herself up and dressed for more snow travel. She pulled on thick pants and a robe from the Skaal, along with a set of gloves, brown scarf and a heavy hood.


	2. Chapter 2

Pulling the fur doors aside, she stepped out into the crisp Skyrim air and shivered. Even now she didn't know what possessed her to return to the north. A feeling sunk deep into her chest that her old dream had a part in it. Still she couldn't see how, but had learned to trust her instincts.

The Imperials glanced up from their food at her as she turned to her tent, collapsed it and attached it to her bed roll. The Dark Elf pulled the end of a bread roll out and ate it swiftly.

"We can leave when you're ready." She looked down the mountain; it would only take an hour or two to get to Helgen. Last night she had almost pushed it, but an hour or two in the frozen mountains was a long time. It also didn't help that she hated being cold; she didn't terribly like Skyrim. She found dancing with her last mate on the dunes of Elsweyr much more appealing. She silently cursed her eternal wanderlust.

"Aren't you going to eat more?" Ned asked.

"Don't need too anymore." She sounded almost sad at that.

"How did you manage that?" Enquired John, downing a bottle of mead.

"I've been around for a long time, stumbled on many magics, and when you get as old as I am you learn to bend a few rules." She fiddled with her bow; the cold metal was oddly comforting.

"How old are you?" John asked with a hint of scorn.

"Typical Nord." The Stranger thought then spoke. "Around two hundred years of age, I don't really measure by winters anymore. More along the lines of eras now." She shrugged. When one measured it like that it was so much easier. She simply said that she was two eras old, and let them figure out the math.

Ned choked on his mead. "So you were there for it all! The fall of the Tribunal, The Oblivion Crisis, the War!"

She nodded and sighed, her eyes wondered off to the distance slightly glassy, lost in memories. Finally she said. "I'd rather not talk about it."

The Imperials broke camp and they set off down the mountain. After about half an hour of treading through the snow, it gave way to rain forest and met up with a small caravan of Imperial prisoners. They fell in behind a waggon with a horse thief, Uflic Stormcloak as his follow Stormcloaks' introduced him.

John spoke up again. "So which side did you fight on in the war?"

The ash-coloured Dark Elf grimaced. "Neither. I stayed out of it." That got her glares from everyone, from the horse thief to the Jarl.

She spoke again. "I've survived the Septims, I feel no loyalty to the New Empire. When it still was a Chapter, I was an Operative of the Blades, the highest ranking member on Vvardenfell. I'd say I've served my Emperor better then many." She pulled a large very old coin out of her pocket. Everyone could see that very clearly that it had the head of Tibre Septim on each side. It had been rubbed off on all new coins, but this one had clearly been well-maintained and cherished. "For example, you'll never guess who gave me this." She flipped it to John.

"Talos?" He held the coin up, inspected it in better light, then flipped it back. He had a sinking feeling it was not for his hands.

"Yup. I meet your God on one of my adventures, he gave me this coin for luck." The Stranger laughed lightly. "Since then my luck has never let me down." She put the coin away and her voice took a lower tone. "The Divines like the Daedra will always be there whether they are worshipped or not. Just because someone says that they are not Gods does not make is so and just like every Empire the Altmeri Dominion days are numbered. I find there is very little reason to fight a war over a God. Carry him in your heart and that is all your God needs." Her voice sounded old as she spoke.

This struck a cord with all the listeners, Nords, Imperial, and Bretons alike. All were humans who once freely worshipped a human God. The now-silent procession made its way into Helgen.

As they walked past an Imperial and Altmeri in fine armour, the Imperial called out.

"Who is this!" His voice held an air of command that could have only come with experience.

"She didn't give us a name, but she calls herself The Stranger, and claims a legal border crossing by Bruma." Ned reported with a swift salute.

"WHAT PROOF DO YOU HAVE OF THIS?" The Altmeri snapped at the man.

The Stranger spoke up. "You know Ulfic is not exactly for equality of the masses and I'm not exactly his favourite race in the world. Did you not factor the colour of my skin into you equation that somehow I am related to that raciest sycophant?" Crossing her arms and glaring, she knew a Thalmor ambassador when she saw one. "I have all my papers with me and in the office of Bruma. If you're really that worried you can check." Pulling out her border-crossing papers from her satchel, she took the three strides to the Thalmor and handed them to Elenwen.

While she read, the Thalmor known as Elenwen glanced over the papers, rather annoyed. The Dunmer had brought up the ridiculousness of detaining everyone in the region. Elenwen felt something was off about the Dark Elf, as if she was trying to hold something back. The High Elf was very attuned to magic. Unlike her agents, it was the only form of combat she had ever learned. Elenwen could feel the magic boiling away within the Dark Elf, but didn't dare call The Stranger out on it. The High Elf had no doubt that annoying this individual further would be a very bad idea.

"Welcome to Skyrim." She said with a forced smile.

The Dunmer smiled, took her papers and gave a very short bow. "Glad you're satisfied."

She walked down the hill and watched as the carriages unloaded before an executors' block.

"Not my problem." She whispered to herself and pressed on, feeling the glares from the Stormcloak soldiers. The Stranger was old. Long ago, she had helped anyone in need, but this brought no end of trouble to her. She walked down the hill out of Helgen and stopped just out of sight of the town. She rubbed her temples.

"Ah Hells." She raced back up the hill just in time to see a massive Dragon land above Ulfric, whose head was on the executioners' block. She magically re-equipped her favourite gauntlet, Waithguard onto her right hand. Waithguard was very special; it was one of a kind, and in all her many years of using it, she had never had to repair it once. She lunged forward and grabbed the blade of the executioners' axe, twisting it roughly. Pieces scattered like glass as she backhanded the man with careless force snapping his neck and sending him flying into the ground.

The Stranger threw a physical and fire shield up just in time for the Dragon to blast them with fire.

"Why did you come?" Ulfric Stormcloak asked. He glared at the tall Elf who had just walked by when they were matching to the chopping block.

"I just saved your head, and that's what you're worried about?" The Dark Elf stood arms-up holding the shield as the living Stormcloak men raced into it. It warped around them as they passed through.

The Dragon took off with a roar. She didn't terribly care where it went. Magically re-equipped her armour to something none of the Stormcloaks recognized.

"Follow me!" The Stranger bellowed and dropped her shield, racing back the way she had come. A stone alcove had fallen, blocking the way. Lowering a shoulder and throwing all of her enormous strength behind it, her long legs sprang forward with incredible speed and the rocks blasted out-ward down the hill.

"Gonna feel that later." She groused under her breath and led the group back into the wilderness, skirting around the mountain known as the Throat of the World. She led them through the forest and around the town of Riverwood, before moving back down to the main road.

Fear of the Dragon kept them moving well into the afternoon and by then they had ate up a third of the way to Windhelm. They were just coming out to the hot springs south of the city.

"Who are you?" Rolaf gasped, the moment the men stopped to catch their breath. "I've never even heard of someone like you!"

The Stranger laughed and re-equipped her armour back to cold weather gear. "You're young. A few hundred years ago there were lots of people like me in Vvardenfell. They were deformed and insane but that's not the point." She flopped down on the grass to fake fatigue and laughed. "I just happen to be the only one left; all others I either killed or died in the Blast." After a moment she pulled off her backpack and handed out handfuls of dried meats to their small party of four.

Ulfric tore into the jerky, giving his savour a deeper look.

"What was that armour?" Rolaf asked, taking a bite of his jerky.

"High Ordinator; that set belonged to one of Almalexia's favoured guards. I briefly served Almalexia in Mornhold. She always sent me on errands, so you could say I was her right hand when she needed something done. I got this set off of one of other guards, known as Her Hands, that had a disagreement of opinion with her." The Stranger rubbed her shoulder before applying a little magic to the bruise.

"She had the guard killed for that?" Rolaf asked in disbelief.

"Don't ever disagree with a Mad God, its bad for your health." She replied in all seriousness. There was more to the story, but she didn't feel like telling it to others.

"Why did you save us?" Ulfic asked darkly.

"Lets' just say my moral compass wouldn't let me walk away." The Dunmer rested her right hand on her stomach. The Nords stared at the brozen-golden gantlet Wraithguard. "I will not call myself friend to either Stormcloak or Imperial and most certainly not Thamlor. The leaders of the Great Houses are aware of my existence and know they can call on me if they have need. My only interest is in the state of my people and their safety. If you happen to kick the Thamlor out of Skyrim or vise versa, I don't mind. I don't really care, as I said before, I was loyal to the Septims. This new Emperor I care not for." Stating this flatly, she sat up. "Now, if you were to say, help my people or promise assistance when your war is over," she shrugged "then we might be in business."

Ulfic glared at her. "You speak with a lot of authority, Dark Elf."

The Stranger laughed. "I've been around, I've earned my authority." She leaped up and stretched. "Well, I bid you farewell Nords, may Azura watch over you." Turning she walked off at a brisk pace away from the Nords. The Dunmer didn't like to travel with other people. She had long since left mortality behind and often forgot what mortals did. This usually brought about many unwanted questions. Not to mention, she has trouble feeling sympathy to people in general now, and guessed her conversation with Ulfic was a good example of that. Caring for the Dark Elves was something that had taken on an instinctual aspect. It had been the goal of her life before Vvardenfell blew its top. Now with the Dunmer scattered to the winds, the instinct had taken on a slightly more ferocious tone.

As a two-hundred-year-old Dunmer, having lived through three major historical events, she had found it was best to not get involved. Someone of her skill had a bad habit of changing the outcome of major events. She felt after she defeated the False Tribunal that her story, for all historical purposes was done. Messing around with current events would create more issues than it would solve.

The road back around the Throat of the World, ran beside a large river and was well-traveled. She occasionally passed by a guard patrol or caravan. She smiled and breathed deeply when the tundra plains came back into view. The red-haired Dark Elf didn't partially like the cold and the plains were about as warm as Skyrim got. Plus, something deep within her told her this is where she was supposed to start, start what she didn't know.

The Stranger rubbed her temples. She hated the feeling that something big was about to be set in motion and she was helpless to stop it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She walked west off the road, a down the embankment and jumped over the river in the direction of Whiterun a small rather quaint city surrounded by farms, coming up to the city. The sun by now was high in the sky but offered little warmth, the wind whipped over the land chilling all to the bone.

The Stranger adjusted her pack. It was a heavy leather thing, packed with food and steel plate armour.

She glanced up from the road to a nearby stable and took note of a huge black draft horse. The aforementioned horse glared at her.

Walking up the worn road to the city she noted that the walls were in a state of disrepair, slowly crumbling away.

"Halt Elf! The city is closed to outsiders." A guard with a closed helm addressed her as she approached the main gates.

"I bring news from Helgen, I'm sure your Jarl will want to hear what I have to say." The Stranger spoke with a tone that left no room for argument. She glared down at the Nordic guard. He only came up to be level with her breasts.

The guard visually swallowed and stepped out of the Strangers' way, and she strode purposely uphill through Whiterun.

Perhaps it was her walk, the way she held her shoulders back or the strength that seemed to be wound tightly within her, but when people looked upon her they averted their eyes and made sure to move out of her path.

Whiterun was very small compared to what the Dark Elf was used too and the walk up to Dragon's Reach only took her five minutes. It was a rather plain city with a small housing and market district. Though none would say it, it was comical how the preacher of Talos shut up at record speeds as the Stranger walked past.

She pushed the right-handed main door to Dragon's Reach open, strode around the grand fire pit in the centre of the hall and up to the Jarl.

"You have a dragon problem." She said before anyone could waste time with questions.

"You were around Helgen then?" The Jarl asked, a stocky blonde Nord male.

"Yes." The Dark Elf stated and crossed her arms.

The Jarl spoke to his own Thane. "Send a detachment to Riverwood."

"Right away my Jarl." The Thane, an unnamed Dark Elf, glowered at the Stranger as she walked past.

"Watch the skies." The Stranger spoke in Daedric and nodded at the leather-garbed Dark Elf.

The Stranger almost laughed as the Thane nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Thank you, Stranger, may Azura watch over you." The Thane replied in the same tongue and bowed to The Stranger before walking down the steps out of Dragons' Reach with a little extra bounce in her step.

"What did you say to her?" The Redguard asked with a suspicions edge to his voice.

"Just wished her luck." The Stranger said.

"Just who are you?" The growled Redguard.

The Stranger just smiled and gave a mock bow. "Just a Stranger, my name is only for the ears that I wish it to be in. So for you and all those that I wish it not, I am The Stranger." She grinned viciously, red eyes gleaming with mirth.

"Well Stranger, perhaps you could help my court wizard with his Dragon research." The Jarl stated.

The Stranger shrugged and adjusted her pack as it slid down a shoulder. "Sure, why not? I'm just wandering anyway. Ruin delving is a rather entertaining past time." She almost laughed when the Redguard paled at the thought of someone willingly going into ruins.

The two walked to the right of the hall where a Nord in blue robes hunched over a table glaring at a piece of parchment that The Stranger couldn't see.

"I have found someone to aid you in your research Farengar." The Jarl walked up to the table the Nord was behind.

"I hope this one is better than the usual brutes you send to me." Farengar glared at the Dark Elf, taking in her modest gear.

The Stranger raised a brow but said nothing.

"Give her a chance Farengar." The Jarl sounded mildly annoyed.

Farengar just scoffed. "She'll just get killed, steel isn't much good against Daugr. Why don't you look for someone with some magical aptitude?"

The Stranger laughed and whipped her left hand out in a half circle. Woosh! A purple bolt struck the Nord. The Stranger made her fingers hooks and raised her hand, lifting the Nord from the ground. As purple light constricted around the Nord and he could feel pressure growing on his limbs and could not move.

"Kid, I was inventing spells before you were a gleam in your great-great-grandmothers' eye." The Stranger spoke in a very amused tone and let the Nord drop to the ground. "Tell me where I am going and what I am fetching."

Farengar got up a bit wobbly and rubbed his throat. He really wanted to know what that spell was; he had never heard of a spell that acted quite like that.

"Bleak Falls Barrow, it's up on the western mountain of Riverwood, I'll mark it on your map." He coughed and picked up an inked quill.

The Stranger pulled her map from her pack and set it on the table. Farengar drew the symbol of a Nordic ruin, a half circle pointed downward with a line through the middle also pointed down.

"Thank you." The Stranger warmed the fresh ink with a small spell and nodded to the Jarl. "I will report when I have results." With that she hastened out of the hall and Whiterun, eager to be on the plains again and away from people.

The Stranger stopped by the stables for a moment before walking up to the black horse. It was almost double her height with its head up and had a mean gleam in its eyes.

She gazed at him, hands on her hips, and after a moments' consideration, the Dark Elf strode up the horse grabbed its jaws and pulled them apart. The black horse tried to pull away but the Stranger flexed and he promptly stopped. The Stranger pulled its jaw back open and took a look at its teeth as the horse master came over.

"No older then five?" She asked and walked around to its right front hoof, lifting it up at the ankle to look at the huge stallions' frog, the underside of his hoof.

"Five." The horse master confirmed and leaned against the wall of the barn smiling. "I've never seen someone handle him so easily. It usually takes two or three men to do anything with him."

The Stranger dropped the hoof and walked back up to the horses' head. She could have sworn the horse was glaring at her. "Does he have a name?" She asked.

"Talat. He was to be an Imperial war horse but none of the regiment wanted within ten metres of him. He is already trained for cavalry."  
The Stranger pulled off a gauntlet and offered Talat her hand.

Talat glared at her, stared into her very soul. Her strength had impressed him, unlike any of the other puny people around. He huffed loudly and nibbled on her fingers. The Stranger smiled and petted the top of his head."How much for him?"

"Two thousand gold. For another five hundred, I'll give you a full winter kit." The man stated without remorse.

It was a high price for any horse, and not even the race horses of Skingrad cost that much.

"What fine training you must have." She cocked her head to the side so Talat could better see her as she said it. "Throw in his breeding papers and a guide to his training and you have a deal." She smiled softly and petted his cheek. Talat huffed at her and shook his head, as if he could be so easily bought with attention.

The horse master took a moment to wipe the shock off of his face before nodding, and rushing back to his home to fetch the papers and tack. While he was gone, the Stranger reached into her magic pocket and withdrew the required amount.

The horse master returned and she took the breeding papers and tucked the list of commands into a side pouch for later review.

"If you would help me with his tack, it is very heavy and I will show you how to saddle him properly." The horse master pulled a huge wool blanket from a post within the barn and offered it to her.

As it turned out, when the horse master said help he meant, you do, I instruct. The Stranger didn't mind as she had ridden may strange creatures in her many years and each required different care. So on went the blanket and a custom saddle, but no reins as the horse master explained that war horses were trained to be ridden without. They relayed on signals from the riders' bodies and voice to communicate.

The Stranger laughed. "What, of course! How can one cry blood curdling war cries with a mouthful of reins?" She squared up Talats' fur-lined breast plate. His saddle was made of sturdy leather with a high back to prevent a rider from slipping off his back when he inevitably reared. Though only newbies fell for that. She was not new, but it would make going up hills more comfortable. She pulled her tent and bed roll off her back and tied them behind his saddle, then put some of her previsions in his two large saddle bags. Once you had a mount, you practically lived with that mount.

With one last tug on his girth she walked around to his left side put one hand on the front of the saddle. She then placed a hand on either end of the saddle and vaulted up into it, and steadied herself by holding onto Talats' neck.

"Wo." she said as Talat shifted his weight back and forth and took a step forward. The saddle was thin and she could feel the muscles of his strong broad back ripple under her. Her eyes went wide. "You're really tall." Her voice broke slightly.

The horse master laughed. "Now don't let him sense your fear you'll have nothing but trouble after that."

The Stranger grinned and said somewhat shaken. "I'm not afraid, just not used to it."

Talat snorted, shook his head and stamped a foot.

"Oh, enough out of you." The Stranger teased her new friend.

The horse master looked the pair over and smiled, he having noticed the Dark Elfs' incredible strength as they worked together. Despite that, he saw how the Dark Elf smiled and laughed when she started to work with Talat, he grinned and thought that this was a match made by the Nine. "Off you go now, come back if you need any help."

The Stranger smiled meekly and pulled out his page of instructions. "If you don't mind I'll read these first and let him get a bit more used to me."

The horse master nodded, "very wise of you," and headed inside his house, as the wind was starting to bite.

While still in the saddle, the Stranger read over the small journals' worth of information. The more she read the more she smiled. Finally she patted Talat's black neck and leaned forward. "You and I are going to have fun."

Talat huffed loudly and shook his head as if to say, we'll see.

The Stranger gently squeezed her legs and off they went back down the road she had come from half a day ago.


	4. Chapter 4

Talat's strides were long and graceful. The Stranger sat at attention on his back, bobbling slightly with his canter. They made good time to the switchbacks between the river and Bleak Falls Barrow's mountain. They stopped only once, at the base of said path out of sight of anything mortal. The Stranger dropped off Talat with a clumsy movement and pulled a long Daedric Odachi from her magic pocket and tied to to the saddle. She jumped back up into the saddle and after a few moments of experimentation, involving a great deal of hoping up, wiggling around and jumping back down much to Talats chagrin. She figured out how to draw her blade in seconds without having to worry about chopping off Talat's head. After that they went through a few of Talat's moves. Talat jumped to with such delight that the Stranger had a hard time staying seated much less practising with her long sword. The pair spent the rest of the trip practising Talat's war manoeuvres. The Stranger kissed the dirt several times and laughed each time she did. The Dunmer couldn't remember ever having this much fun failing before. Each time Talat would come over and shove his nose into her face and whinny, practically laughing at her. The Stranger would pat his nose, push him away, get up and jump back in the saddle. Rinse and repeat till they made it to Riverwood. The sun had sunk low in the sky despite Talat's long stride the dirt kissing slowed their progress significantly.

Eventually the pair came into Riverwood, slowly picked their way to the back of the Sleeping Giant Inn and into the stable. The Stranger pulled off all of Talat's tack, brushed him down and paid the stable boy a few gold pieces to feed the massive horse.

The Stranger stroked Talat's nose as the horse thrust his nose into her stomach. "See you in the morning." She said softly. In their short time together she had grown fond of the great draft horse. Talat's ears cocked forward and he huffed happily, he was glad this wasn't some gutless milk drinker.

The Dark Elf stroked his head one last time then headed into the inn. There was one thing she didn't like about Skyrim; many of the inns looked exactly the same, at least in Vvardenfell every inn had its own flavour.

She passed the inn-keeper thirty coins and helped herself to two bottles of ale and a large helping of stew fresh out of the pot on the long deep fire pit.

The Stranger fell into a large seat and stretched her long legs out into the room and sighed. It felt good to sit on something other then a saddle. She noticed a blonde Nord woman in inn-keepers' garb staring at her.

The Stranger ignored her, long used to the stares of other people. It was rather normal when she stood seven feet tall. Abnormally tall for a Dark Elf, she blamed it on a disease she had caught a large number of years ago. It was famous for almost controllable side effects. Before it she had only stood at five feet and a half, and needless to say the growth spurt had been very painful after the fact. She had to get another wizard to help her balance to top half to match the unnatural growth of height. That process had been almost as painful as the disease itself, extending her arms and broadening her shoulders. She shuddered at the memories, thankful that with the wizard's help they managed to get her to look normal again, if still very tall.

The Dark Elf pulled off her scarf, fur helm and gloves and fell on her food like a starving woman. Thanks to her cured version of the disease, it did all sorts of strange things to her being able to go without food and sleep for days. Those were just a few of the side effects. The downside was that when she did eat, she ate a LOT as the bar maid found out when the Stranger gave her thirty more coins and had two more servings of stew, then downed her two bottles in three fast gulps each. After a large comical belch she retired to her room and crashed face with first her legs sticking off the end of the thin hay bed.

Delphine walked out the to the stables and crept past a sleeping Talat, poking through his tack. After a few minutes she found the Odachi, and pulled on the sword smoothing from its sheath. She took three steps backward to draw it completely and cursed when it came free. Her muscles strained to just keep the tip from falling into the dirt. "What is this made of?" She whispered and heaved with all of her muscles to get the tip back into the sheath. "I doubt even Alvor would be able to use this. Must be why she left it here, I don't think may people would be stupid enough to try stealing this. It would take a small team to make off with it." She went back to her inn and to bed, thoughts of the strange elf filling her paranoid mind.

In the morning The Stranger dropped another fifty gold on food, then headed out to Talat. He greeted her with a whinny and she petted his nose and said hello before going about tacking him up. When she got to her Odachi she stopped and pulled it partially from its sheath with two fingers. Her eyes critically went up and down the blade. "Who has played with you?" She said softly, her voice vibrating in almost a hum. She snapped it back into the sheath with a flick of her wrist and tied it back up horizontally to Talat's tack.

Delphine covered her mouth as her eyes bulged from their sockets. "Who are you?" She whispered under her breath as The Stranger and her magnificent horse set off back down the road and across the bridge to the mountain. "Bleak Falls Barrow?" Delphine asked the wind, "Just who have you found Farengar?"

Talat picked a slow pace to walk up the mountain, and The Stranger was quite fine with that she found no reason to hurry either. She held her head up high and let the wind sing through her hair.

The only trouble was a lone and exceptionally brave wolf. A grand leap and three seconds later its head neatly severed from its body.

Just before the elevation made the whole-hearted transition to freezing snow, she hopped off of Talat and changed into a set of full plate steel armour. She strung her Daedric long bow and remounted Talat, very glad the her mount was trained as a war horse for she could take him into battle without fear.

The Stranger sat a little bit higher in the saddle and pulled her bow back, aiming over the left side of Talat's head as he plodded up through the snow.

They came up to a watch tower and two bandits stupid enough to attack on sight meant swift ends to the flight of twin arrows.

The sun glinted off the snow and the air was still as they rounded the last bend to Bleak Falls Barrow. It stood ominously before them, the ancient Nordic Tomb far grander then the ones of Solthiem that she remembered. The outermost structure swarmed with bandits that shouted and drew weapons as she approached.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk. Arrows flew through the air and embedded themselves in necks and eye sockets.

In the space of thirty seconds half the bandits fell to the great bow and the rest shouted for a retreat and fled to the ruin, leaving its great black doors ajar in their haste.

At the base of the ruin's stairs she dismounted and patted Talat's shoulder. "Now don't let any escape." Talat shook his head and stamped his hoof as if daring the bandits to try and get past him.

The Stranger shouldered her bow and whipped the Odachi from its sheath. With an evil grin she raced up the sets stairs of the ruin taking four or five at a time as she practically gilded over the ground.

She came up to the great doors and shoved the left one open with the corresponding hand. It groaned on its hinges like a dying man. The sound echoed though the tomb and the bandits stared at her in sheer terror as their eyes grew to impossible sizes as they watched the door swing inward.

The Stranger growled lowly and brought her left hand to the Odachi, and blasted forwarded, her feet leaving indentations in the stone work of the floor. The bandit's screams of terror dissolved into bloodly gurgles as she bisected, disemboweled and decapitated the measly five that remained.

Blood flew through the air as she cleaved and sliced, dancing through her enemies. The encounter was finished before their screams had time to fully matured.

The Stranger flicked her Odachi to the side with one arm, blood splatting in a neat arch from her swing.

She proceeded through the tomb in much the same fashion. When she came to a giant spider it was a sight to behold as she danced and leaped around it. Toying with it as she began to remove its one by one its legs from its body with a one-armed swing of her blade. Finally, she jumped up onto the things' back and stabbed it through its over-grown head.

It crashed to the ground as she leaped neatly off.

"You got to cut me down!" A dunmer bandit strung up on the wall shouted at her.

She approached him slowly, her body coiled like a cats' and before he could shout and she ran him through. With a short tug she pulled him from the webs he had been stuck in and let his lifeless body fall to the floor.

As she turned away something clicked against the floor. Turning back she flicked the dunmers' body over with a foot. Something gold was sticking out from his breast pocket. Kneeling, she brushed away some of the spider webs and pulled the gold thing out.

It was a gold claw with three creatures inscribed on the underside. "Interesting." She said and moved on, neatly cleaving through the remaining spiders.

The daugr, an undead desiccated creature, after this point provided slightly more of a challenge, but not one ridiculous amounts of fire didn't solve. It grated her nerves that they kept using a vocal magic that she didn't know, as one of those shouts sent her Odachi flying from her hand.

That NEVER happened! In her rage she grabbed the offending daugrs' head with both hands and kicked its torso sending it sprawling back without a head. Bits of decomposing flesh flew everywhere, after which she stopped playing with her entertainment and ran through the daugr.

Finally she came to on open cave, sunlight shining in through the top. The Stranger stormed up to the word wall, a wall inscribed with Nordic carvings. A strange chant echoed in her head. Not improving her mood to the overly large tomb, eventually the chanting stopped and on a short platform lay what she assumed was the Dragon Stone. She put the thing in her bag, and as she moved to exit the tomb a larger Daugr blasted open the lid of its coffin. It took her three cuts to render it back firmly in death. With all her foes finally gone she took a moment to examine the cave. Water ran in neat streams around the word wall. She found a chain behind the structure and followed it up out of the ruin.

The tunnel opened up to over look the lake.

The Stranger growled. "Well what good does this do me?" But even as she said this she saw something that boggled her mind. Talat was grazing at the base of the mountain below her.

She jumped down and walked up to him. "I knew there was something I liked about you."

His ears flicked back and he huffed at her as if it to say of course you silly elf. The Dark Elf rolled her eyes and leaped up onto his back as they set off back to Whiterun.


	5. Chapter 5

The way back to Whiterun was a bit more of a pain then the way there, though there was less falling and dirt eating. Away from the road Talat picked his steps more carefully and they had to weave their way along the coast of Lake Llinalta. To their left they could see the mast of a long-lost ship. The Stranger wondered how such a ship ended up in a puddle like Llinalta but stranger things had happened. Lake Llinalta fed all the way out to the Sea of Ghost, and it was Llinalta's river that the town Riverwood sat on.

The Stranger and her war horse found the road again; after some swimming and mountain climbing they plodded through the small town again. It was about high noon and it buzzed as much as a small town can. As they passed through the western gate the guards stared, and the rest of the town followed suit. After her departure in the morning a guard out for a bathroom break had spotted her going up to Bleak Falls Barrow, that had spread the news like wildfire once everyone had rolled out of bed. The sight of a seven foot tall Dunmer riding a black war horse was not something one saw every day.

The Stranger rolled her eyes and wondered how dull these peoples' lives must be if she was worth turning out the whole town to stare. She reached back into one of Talat's large saddle bags and retrieved a plated steel helm, pulling it on and arranging her hair to flow into a red cascade down her back. "Might as well give them a good story." She thought and making a note to paint her armour red or something. If Riverwood was an example, she wasn't going to be able to wander Skyrim as quietly as she wanted.

Talat most certainty did not help, as he preened at the attention, pulling his head up and tucking it like the proper, proud war horse that he was. He then pranced slightly, just to keep his rider on her toes and to make her sit up straight like she should when showing off to the masses. At least that was what he thought.

The Stranger indulged him and sat up straight, like a hero coming back from a successful mission. Rather then playing it up further, she stared perfectly at Talat's black ears watching their white tips twitch in the cold breeze.

After the pair had crossed the bridge and was winding their way down the hillside, the Stranger pulled her helmet back off and tucked it away. "You are horrible you know that?" She addressed the steed.

Talat shook his mane and pranced again, jostling her in the saddle. The Stranger laughed deeply and grabbed the saddle horn to keep from falling. "Alright, alright you win!" she chortled as she hung on. "I guess with you around I can kiss a low profile goodbye." She stroked his mane as he calmed down and allowed her to remain seated.

They spent the next two hours making their way back to Whiterun, passing by half a dozen farms, nodding to the farmers as she passed. The air had warmed slightly since the morning trip and wind blew softly over the plains. The Stranger smiled and relaxed. She loved watching wheat sway in the breeze; it was a sign of a happy people and a good year.

The stable master was happy to see them in one piece and took Talat in for a good brushing after the Dark Elf retrieved the Dragon Stone and her Odachi. She strapped the latter onto her back and set the Dragon Stone in a comfortable grip against her hip, setting off all the way back up to Dragon's Reach.

This trip up was much like the last one, and it left the Stranger slightly irritable when she made up back up to the top. She didn't like big cities anymore, too crowded with many people all speaking and arguing at once. Whiterun was Skyrims' central city. Although new, it was one of the largest and most prosperous ones. She pushed open the door with slightly more force then necessary and set it rocketing inward. She winced when it banged against the wall, then strode back to the Nord mage in his little magic room and dropped the Dragon Stone front and centre on his desk. It landed with a large boom and the desk creaked. Farengar and a tall Breton woman in worn leather leaped back from the table to avoid getting their fingers crushed.

The Stranger leaned against the arch into the mages' study. "One slightly used Dragon Stone. Can I go now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How did you?" The Breton stared and tried to lift the Dragon Stone only to get a centimetre or two before dropping it back on the table. "This thing weighs a tone."

"You just need to swing a great sword around for a while." The Stranger said, her arms crossed, leaning against a wall. The tall Dunmer nodded at the Breton's simple steel sword that rested on her hip.

"Incredible!" Farengar was already pulling out a piece of parchment and charcoal. Then he tried to lift the Dragon Stone as well to check the back.

After watching the Nord struggle with it for a minute, the Stranger rolled her eyes again, and moved to lift it up onto a point.

"Thank you." Farengar said and ran a hand over the back checking for nicks or indentations. After a moment he pulled his hand back and the Stranger let it rest on the table.

The Breton patted Farengar's shoulder and said. "Send me a copy when you have deciphered it."

The Breton glared at the Stranger as she passed, taking note of the Daedric Bow and Sword. She visually bite her tongue as she looked up at the tall red headed Dunmer.

"If you have something to say, Breton, spit it out as it is you look like someone put a lemon on your tongue." The Stranger addressed the Breton.

"Where did you get those weapons?" The Breton asked sharply.

"The bow I made and the sword I pulled off the corpse of a Demora Lord." The Stranger said casually.

Before the Breton could continue with her line of questioning the Dunmer, Irelith raced up to the two and half shouted breathlessly. "A Dragon has been seen at the West Tower!"

The Stranger didn't wait for either Irelith or the Breton, taking off down the stairs of the great hall, her stride eating the distance. Normally she wouldn't bother with such an event but a dragon, she hadn't seen one of those yet!

She tore out of the hall and leaping clear over the stairs down into the Cloud District. Landing with a thud and a roll she sprinted with inhuman speed through the crowd.

A dragon's roar could be heard in the distance. People screamed and ran indoors, clearing the way for the Dunmer.

The guards were closing the gates when The Stranger raced up to them and throw her shoulder at them, throwing them open with a crash. She ran up to the wall of the battlements and jumped clear off, landing with a thud.

She could see the dragon flying towards the city. It had a huge pair of wings, fore and back legs and was a light molted brown colour. Without breaking her stride the unnaturally tall elf pulled the bow from her back, took aim and fired.

The dragon screamed as an arrow pierced its scaly hide. The Stranger could see the heavy plates from where she stood by some rubble across from the stables.

Its' long neck swung around and beady eyes fixated on her. It dove, wings closing in around its body, mouth open in a roar. The Stranger stood tall and fired again, this arrow lounging itself in the roof of the dragon's mouth.

It bellowed in pain and pulled out of its dive, flapping its massive wings to hover just above the ground. In rage it screamed "YOL TOOR SHUL!" and blasted the Dunmer in fire.

The Stranger pulled five arrows from her quiver, put four in her bow hand and one in her right and fired. The first arrow hit the dragon again in the neck, the next four were released in rapid fire and clustered at its throat.

The Dragon choked mid shout and dropped to the ground, shaking its head in a feeble attempt to dislodge the Daedric arrows. At this range from that bow, the arrows had bit deep into its flesh.

The Stranger dropped her bow and pulled the Odachi from her back. The dragon roared at her again, its mouth out-stretched. It tried to push itself away but was in to much pain to get very far. With a great sweep of the blade, the sword cut through the muscles of the beast's lower jaw and bone, levelling it free from the rest of the monster. The dragon reared its head as The Stranger took a jumped onto its neck, leaped up off and plunged her blade through the dragon's thick skull. The dragon slumped onto the ground, blood pooling beneath its' head.

The Stranger placed her free hand on the beasts' head and pulled her blade out of the skull with a sickening squelch. She hopped off of the dragon and flicked her blade, blood spattering the ground. She collected her bow and arrows and sheathed both weapons.

The dragon stared to glow orange and something from within it flew to her in a golden river. It faded after a few moments and the dragon lay there just as it had when she had cut it down. It had lost something; its mystery, shine, or glow of the great mystical beast.

The Stranger felt something stir within her and didn't like it. Finally turned from the beast and saw Irelith, the Breton in ill-kept leather and a rather large number of guards staring at her.

"Oh joy." The flame haired Dumner said, picking up the jaw of the dragon, she threw it at Irelith. The other Dunmer caught it with a stumble wary of its sharp teeth.

The Stranger spoke loudly. "I want either the empty house by the blacksmith or five thousand gold for the dragon's death."

Irelith gulped and nodded.

The Stranger walked over to the stables, tacked up and retrieved Talat. As she mounted booming voices filled the air.

"DOVAHKINN!"

The Stranger set Talat off down the road; as she did a guard ran up to her. "Dragonborn! That's the Greybeards summons!" He pointed at the massive mountain to the south. "The Greybeards live atop of the Throat of the World. Seek them out. If you follow the river around the mountain you will come to Ivarstead, where there is a bridge going northwest out of the town. It will lead you to them." The guard spoke swiftly as if he was afraid that she would leave without hearing him out.

The Stranger nodded sharply but before she could set off again Irelith came up to her still holding the Dragon's jaw. "What is your profession Stranger?"

"Monster hunter." The Dunmer aseat her horse said gruffly and set Talat off into a trot before anyone else could interrupt her.

As the dragon slayer departed, Delphine stared at her back till she out of sight of the stable. Then the Breton raced to her own horse, jumped up into the saddle and set off after the impossibly tall figure.

Her mind raced. "A Dragonborn!" she thought. "I've finally found one!"

The Stranger and Talat followed the guard's directions, walked passed the Valtheim Towers uninterrupted and stopped to admire a large waterfall on the other side. It would feed out to the Sea of Ghosts, and The Stranger wondered why there was town near the river. It would save a great deal of time when trafficking goods. Delphine came into view and kept pace at a respectful distance, far enough to give the Dunmer space yet close enough to fall under The Strangers' protection as the bandits did not bother her either.

The travellers followed the road that lead down into the hot springs south of Windhelm, and back south up a long winding switchback towards the Throat of the World. Eventually they came up to Ivarstead, The Dark Elf stabled Talat and went into the inn.

The Stranger set off the mountain at the crack of dawn the next morning without Talat. As soon as she crossed the bridge she started to run, her long legs eating up the distance. The ground swiftly became covered in snow and the higher she went the greater the bite of the wind became. It snatched the warmth from her cheeks. As she rounded the last corner of the mountain, a great Nordic Stronghold stood before her, the stones of its making black as depths of the oceans. Snow clung to the stones turning them a steely grey. She walked warily up the last few stone steps and pushed open the heavy steel door.

Shivering as the door closed behind her, she strode into the warm open chamber of High Hrothgar. Oddly, an old Nord awaited her, and launched into an obviously prepared speech. "Why have you come here?"

"Because you called did you not?" The Stranger nodded to him and walked over to the brazier set on a raised level flanked by stairs.

"We did." The Elder man said, noting how the Dunmer towered over a foot taller then him, along with her weapons and baring. She unnerved him, no Dunmer was built like her and her magical aura was very askew.

The Stranger tore of her gauntlets and thrust her hands into the fire.

The man stared at them, white scars, small and large wove over her hands and forearms. Her finger's were very long and nimble, callouses from all manner of weapons could be clearly seen. What he found the oddest was the stretch marks identically on either arm, they were five centimetre's long and faded with age.

"So what is your name and the names of your friends?" The Stranger asked.

"I am Angeir and my fellow Greybeards are Borri, Wulfgar and Einarth." Angeir said and gestured to each of the Greybeards in turn. "What is your name?" he asked.

"You may call me Stranger." she said.

Master Einarth's voice boomed forth and High Hrothgar shook.

" _When earth is_ _sundered_ _, and skies_ _choked black_ _,  
And sleepers serve the __seven curses_ _,  
To the hearth there comes a stranger,  
Journeyed far 'neath __moon and star_ _._

 _Though stark-born to sire uncertain,  
His __aspect_ _marks his certain fate.  
_ _Wicked_ _stalk him,_ _righteous_ _curse him.  
_ _Prophets_ _speak, but all deny._

 _Many trials make manifest  
The stranger's fate, the curses' bane.  
Many __touchstones_ _try the stranger.  
Many fall, but __one remains_ _."_

Angeir's eyes went wide as he recognized the passage and spoke in an amazed voice. "Are you that Stranger?"

The Strangers eyes twinkled in the fire light and she grinned rather evilly and nodded.

Angeir pulled a hasty bow. "Forgive my earlier insolence, I did not realize."

The Stranger waved his apology off. "If I wanted the bowing and all that nonsense I would use my name not Stranger. As it is I am enjoying the fact that many have forgotten my face and I can wander Tamriel without every other person asking for help. Or trying to get me involved in politics." Stranger shuddered violently her amour bouncing slightly with the force of the moment. "I hate politics."

"That is something I think I can understand." Angeir said with a smile while thinking. "Well at least we have someone with a strong grasp of responsibility and with almost more years under her belt then we Greybeard's put together. Not to mention great power already." he looked at the stretch marks again. "Corprus disease?" Looking the elf up and down. "That would explain a few things." Finally he said. "Have you learned any words to go with the soul you absorbed Lady?"

"Fus." she said letting him use Lady. "It means force yes?"

"How did you?" Angeir started.

"One Dragon souls calls to another, it translated. Though for common language I imagine I will have to sit down with a book." She pulled her hands out of the fire and rubbed them before pulling her gauntlets back on. "So what is going on? Why have the Dragon's returned?"

"Alduin has returned, he raised the Dragon's from their resting places. He wishes to devour the world." Angeir said.

"So he is resurrecting fallen Dragons of old, just in Skyrim or do I have to look beyond."

Angeir shook his head. "Skyrim and perhaps Solitheim, Alduin was wise enough to leave the lands of the elves alone."

The Stranger snorted. "Very wise of him Almalexia would have probably gotten very creative with his imprisonment. Or Daedra forbid the Ayleids or even myself though I wasn't around at that time."

"Yourself? Before you were a released Dragonborn?"

The Dragonborn only smiled.

She said warily. "Do you have a plan of attack for Alduin?" she asked and sat on a stair.

"No we have no way to defeat him." Angeir said solemnly.

The Stranger sighed and heaved herself to her feet. "Then teach me what words you know and I will go hunting for Dragon ruins or perhaps Akaviri temples, they were big on dragon lore and return when I have something of use."

"Can you read Akaviri?" Angeir asked.

"Yes. I had an adventure across the sea once, though you will have to give me a few books on Dragon tongue."

"Of course Dragonborn."

The Greybeards taught her the last two word of the Shout Unrelenting Force, Ro and Dah and the first of Whirlwind Sprint Wuld. They gave her three heavy books, two on Dragon tongue and Shouts and one on the Way of the Voice. Not that she cared to much about the last one, she already had techniques to calm herself and had seen first hand what power can do to a person.

Then the Stranger walked back out onto the mountain, the sky had cleared and she could see all the way to the Sea of Ghosts. She smiled, it had been nice to talk to the Greybeard, High Hrothgar was very peaceful and it was nice to be herself. After all her years of wandering as a nameless figure meeting someone new, and having them hail her as herself was refreshing and the best part was they were a bunch of hermits who wouldn't go around blabbing.

On the trip down the sun had creeped above the horizon so it wasn't so cold.

By the time she had made it back down the seven thousand steps to Ivarsted, the sun hung low in the sky. She walked straight for Talat and petted him for a few long minutes and spoke softly. "Do you want to save the world with me?" He huffed and pushed his nose into her belly so she could rub his cheek better. "All go get supplies, then I guess we will hunt for some sort of library, perhaps this Colleague of Winterhold on my map will be a good start." She tacked him up and let him stand outside of the inn, while she went and purchased rations.

Delphine followed her out of the inn and then again on horseback, this time riding up beside her. They road in silence till they were out of ear shot of the town and well into the thin forest.

"So Dragonborn where are you going?" Delphine asked.

"And why would I tell you that?" The Stranger asked.

"I'm one of the last members of the Blades. A very long time ago, the Blades were dragonslayers and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest dragonslayer. For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose. Now that dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear again. We need to stop them."

"What rank are you?" The Stranger asked.

Delphine blinked twice in surprise. "A Journeyman, why?"

The Stranger laughed deeply. "Then I outrank you! I'm a regional Operative."

Delphine stared. "You're lying! You don't look over twenty!"

The Stranger chuckled and said. "I am two hundred and twenty six. I was the head of the Blades division of Morrowind till the eruption of Red Mountain."

Delphine just sat shocked, so The Stranger spoke again. "I am looking for a means to defeat Alduin but I find my information lacking as a local do you have any suggestions as to were to start looking for dragon lore?"

That seemed to snap Delphine out of her loop she almost shouted. "Yes I have a friend in Riften that manged to save some information from the Thamlor."

"Then to Riften we go." The Stranger said.

The rode for a few hours in silence, the sun sinking in the horizon. It lit the forest in a sea of shadows creating a darkness that sneaked into the soul. They started up a low hill towards Riften before Delphine spoke again.

"So what is your name? You haven't said." Delphine pushed her hood back, relieving long blonde hair.

"Call me what you like, most just call me the Stranger." The Stranger said.

"But that doesn't answer my question." Delphine snapped.

"Its the only one your getting." The Dunmer smiled slightly.

Delphine glared but wisely didn't push it, she figured that the Dunmer would eventually let it slip.

They came up to Riften, gave their horses to the stable hand and went into the wooden city. The Guard's gave them both a wary look and let them pass.

 **This is edited less, but my patience is wearing thin.**


	6. Chapter 6

Riften had fallen into a decline in resent years, it was a grey city much of its luster had been lost to time. It was in made in two levels, one on the water-way there were homes for the poor, the homes were caves cut into the rock and moister clung to the brown stone and moss grew with ease. The upper level had a large market district with the local meadery, may large wooden long house set up like apartments. A grand temple of Mara along with the Jarls hall, next to it was an orphanage that was shown considerably more love.

The Stranger strode through the town, people wandered around the street, gossip about the Thief's Guild, a Nord speaking to a Redguard about a deal. The wood bridge creaked as she walked over it. The most prominent building in the market square was the tavern, it was easily one of the largest buildings. The sun hugged the horizon and people trickled to it, The Strange and Delphine walked inside, the Stranger had to duck at the door and as per usual her entrance gathered stares. She stepped softly as she approached the counter and smiled at the Argonian inn keeper.

"A room for the night, two horker steak meals and three meads." The Stranger spoke clearly but softly and placed fifty gold pieces on the contour. "The meals to be put on one plate." The Stranger explained when the Inn keep glanced at Delphine. With that the Stranger glided over to a small table tucked toward the back door, tucked her backpack between her and the wall and stretched her legs out to the side and sagged with a groan. Delphine followed her after making her own order and took the only other seat, sitting opposite the Stranger.

The blonde glared at the tall Dark elf.

"You didn't honestly expect me to buy for you?" The Stranger drawled as a male Argonian came over with there drinks.

Delphine too had order three drinks but unlike The Stranger she tucked two into her bag. The Stranger pulled the corks out of two with one hand and down one in a large swallow then sipped at the other.

"It would have been polite I am helping you." Delphine growled.

The Stranger barked out a laugh and fell forward slightly before leaning back again and calming. "I don't need the help of a wanna be Blade who is so desperate she follows the first person that gives her a glimmer of hope. Times change, Empires rise and fall kiddo, let it go. Calling yourself a Blade means nothing now, its just a good way to get yourself killed." The Stranger spoke quietly pitching her voice for Delphines ears.

"How can you be so casual about it!" Delphine hissed.

"I'm old human." The Stranger turned to Vvardenfell red eyes to the Breton. "I have seen the fall of the Empire and the rise of the Aldmeri. I let them walk past me, I don't get involved anymore and in the turn of another era someone new will create a force and it will all change again. I am content to see it all and not get involved. What the Greybeard's have said about Alduin bodes ill for all of Nirn and everyone else is much to concerned with politics to get anything done in a timely manner. I like Nirn, I don't want to see it devoured." The Stranger sipped her her beverage.

Delphine stared more then a bit lost at the Dunmer's deceleration, this was not what the Dragonborn was supposed to be!

Delphine gasped like a fish, unable to get a word out.

"Tell me human, what would happen if I went around fixing everything that I felt was wrong? You want me to rebuild the Blades so they can kill Dragon's but they can't can they? Anyone can all themselves a Blade but they can't absorb a Dragon's soul, so they can't kill Dragons."

"But the Blades serve the Dragonborn." Delphine said.

"I do I look like I want people to serve me? The Stranger raised red brow.

"No." Delphine said dejectedly.

The Stranger cocked her head and stared at the woman, she could understand Delphine's wishes. With a sigh she spoke. "Tell you what, you do as I ask and maybe after Alduin is dealt with I'll help you remake the Blades. Not rebuild, remake if we are going to do it, we are doing to do well and make it new."

Delphine smiled, placated for now. The male Argonian returned and served them their meals then the odd pair settled, listening to the murmur of the tavern. As the tavern filled the cacophony of roared to new heights, it became hard to hear ones own thoughts as a bard troupe wandered in and stuck up a pair of drums with a lute and flute. Only then did The Stranger lean forward to speak in Delphine's ear, at this point it looked perfectly normal as it was the only why to be heard.

"So where is your friend?" The Stranger asked.

"In the Ratways, I don't know beyond that. We'll have to ask around down there."

The Stranger shook her head. "I work best alone you stay up here and see what gossip you can over hear."

"Alright." Delphine said reluctantly "The password for Esbern is 'Where were you on the 30th of Frostfall."

The Stranger nodded and ate her last piece of steak and slipped out of the Inn with remarkable stealth for someone so large.

She had just straightened up from dodging the door again when a honeyed voice spoke from behind her.

"You walk like a Thief lass."

The Strangers lip quirked up for a second before she straightened it. "And you hold yourself like one." She turned to the speaker, a tall Nord with long red hair that fell to his shoulders and a full goatee leaned against the tavern a fine blue tunic.

The Nord smiled and gave a mock bow. "Brynjolf at your service lass."

The Stranger fought a smile again. "Stranger." She returned the silly bow.

Her name made Brynjolf's lips twitch upward and he spoke. "What brings you to my city Stranger?"

"I am looking for an old man named Esbern I have been told he lives in the Rat way." The dark elf said and leaned against the rail of the canal.

"I might know of the man." Brynjolf said smirking. "But it will cost you."

The Stranger glared. "I don't do bribes, not even for a thief like you."

"Then you know thieves, I wonder what the guards would do with that information." He continued to smirk.

The Stranger growled and took the single step it took to step into his face, grabbed him by the collar and pinned him to the wall with her body.

Brynjolf laughed as she pulled him up to her face. "Easy lass if you want a good time no need to be so forward."

The Stranger blinked twice in comprehension and blushed slightly but didn't move away, her pelvis was pinning him in place, while she had moved her arm to pin his to the wall at his sides. She growled into his ear. "I'd think very carefully on your next words Nord, tell me where Esbern is or you will regret that comment about guards."

Brynjolf smiled and kissed the exposed cheek.

The Stranger jumped back her expression shocked, eyes wide mouth agape and stumbled smacking into the rail, it broke under the sudden force. Brynjolf lunged forward and caught a flailing arm and pulled her forward with a heave.

The Stranger pulled away from him with a deep blush and crossed her arms over her chest.

Brynjolf chucked and said. "That expression won you your information lass. Esbern is in Ratway Vaults he has the large sound door, it won't take you long to find."

The Stranger turned on the spot and started off down the street without another word. She passed silently along the market and down the creaky wet stair case to the canal then up to the dock, picked the laughable lock to the ratway.

The door opened up to a low hall for brown stones and dirt, water dripped down the walls and she could hear people talking down at the end of the wall with a fire. Stooping she made her way down the hall and past the pair of talking men, they reached for there weapons but wisely left them sheathed as she past.

The Ratway was a maze, a rather simple one but still a maze of the same dull brown stone. She came across a small collection of people, but all let her pass to fond of their heads, to bother the elf.  
Stepping down long last small flight of slick steps she pushed open the door to the Ragged Flagon. She strode around the open cistern, rolling her shoulders and stretching them up to the sky. The walk had left her feeling compressed.

"You better not make any trouble." A Nord standing.

The Stranger smirked took a step towards the wall and stood to face him. In a flash she punched the wall, dirt and stone crumbled under her fist as her arm buried to her elbow. With a loud crunch she pulled her arm free, pulverized dirt trickled out of the whole.

The leather clad Nord swallowed and croaked out. "Right be on your way then."

The Stranger nodded with a smile, her ego salvaged for the night and walked through the bar to the Ratway vaults.

More slippery brown stairs awaited her and crazed individuals with just enough sense to leave her alone. After more then a little back tracking and some aggressive path making. Which is to say she got fed up with wandering in circles and punched her way up through a grate to the upper level of the vaults.

After dusting herself off she walked down the very last hall that she missed and knocked on the last unknocked on door.

"Yes?" An old worn voice called from beyond.

"Where were you on the 30th of Frostfall?" The Stranger asked wasting no time.

The man pulled open a peek whole in the door and looked up at the Dark Elf. "Did Delphine send you?"

"She did she is waiting above ground for us." The Stranger smiled and tried to look none threatening, she sucked at it.

"Right give me one moment."

There was a clash from beyond the door, some muttering and grumbling, then the clicks of many locks becoming unlocked. The Stranger rolled her eyes at the obscene number of locks. Finally an old greying Imperial with a hastily stuffed pack stumbled out into the Ratway.

With significantly less difficulty then entering they made there way out of the Ratway back to Delphine, The Strange ignored Brynjolf when they walked past him, fighting the blush in her cheeks.

As they entered the bar, Delphine leaped from her seat and pulled Esbern into a crushing hug.

Esbern returned the hug. "Its good to see you too Delphine I have so much to show you."

The Stranger smiled at the pair and said. "I'm heading to bed, I want to be off at dawn."

Delphine nodded and lead Esbern to the table that she and the Stranger had occupied before. The Stranger made her way up to her again ducking to avoid walking into door frames or getting her bow caught on them.

Crossing to a small room, one of four and pulled her gear off her shoulders and gave them another roll. Her pack was not heavy but she had learned at an early stage of her long life that staying in one position for long periods of time. Was not wise and that rolling and stretching was a very wise thing to do. Laying slowly down on the much to short bed of hay she sighed, looking forward to sleeping in her own appropriately sized bed roll again.

At dawn the curly red head Dunmer found herself waiting by the door fiddling with her hair as she watched for her companions to come down. Pack at her feet, bow and sword propped up against the wall behind her. Out of boredom she pulled out one of the books that the Greybeards had given her on the Dragon tongue. In truth she didn't mind the wait, it gave her a moment of stillness to centre herself.

The book was on basic language and grammar of the Dragon language it was interesting in of itself and The Stranger found it rather easy. She had grown up with the Daedric tongue, Dragon was much simpler by comparison.

Delphine and Esbern came down the creaking stairs already reengaged in conversation, clearly they had been up late the previous night Esbern had dark circles under his eyes but otherwise looked very happy.

The pair nodded to the tall Dunmer and ordered some breakfast for themselves.

The small party set out of Riften later then the largest member would have liked, but it took a little while to convince Esbern that Talat wouldn't trample him. Delphine purchased a small grey mare for the old man and they started off back the way the came. Once out of ear shot of the guard towers The Stranger spoke.

"So where are we going Esbern?" She pulled a brown cloak tighter around her, it was large enough to cover her entirely and she had arranged it to over most of Talats hid quarters. The morning dew mixed with fog created an unpleasant bone chilling cold.

"Skyhaven Temple, its directly west of Markarth." Esbern said practically bouncing in his saddle in excitement.

"The other side of the province how grand, it will take us the better part of a month to get there. There is not exactly a straight route and I imagine we will not be riding hard." Talat snorted and shook his head, really he wasn't a pleasure riding horse. This leisurely riding was beneath his dignity. "Oh hush." The Stranger stroked his mane.

"At least with you around it is likely to be a quiet trip." Delphine said.

The Dark Elf patted her blade that was strapped to Talat's side and smiled.

"Speaking of which Dragonborn, I've been meaning to ask." Esbern began. "I've never even read about a seven foot tall Dark Elf are you half Demora or something?"

The now dubbed Dragonborn laughed it was deep booming laugh, the kind that only someone with very large lungs could pull off. "No Esbern I am pure Dunmeri."

"Then how?" the man asked.

"It was very unpleasant and took a very long time. I'd rather not talk about it." The Dragonborn sighed and rubbed at her left arm.

Esbern nodded in understanding and they travelled through the poplar forest in silence.

They stopped for the night first at Ivarsted then Whiterun, the Stranger gave the Jarl a little while longer to get his affairs in order. The Dragon she had killed had been butchered for its parts and all that was left was some blood on the rocks.

After that point the rest of the trip almost had The Dragonborn pulling her hair out, she could have pulled the trip off in a week of hard riding. All the stops and rests that Esbern and Delphine need were driving her crazy! It also served as a reminder of why she travelled alone, they didn't speak to much throughout the trip but Esbern would often trade stories of the glory days of the Blades.

Each story cut a little into the Strangers heart, she had not been on the continent when Mehrunes Dagon had invaded and felt moderately guilty about it. That and the Daedra had ran sacked Raven Rock, she was still grumpy about that, she had founded the town and made sure that it would succeed without her. Those bloody Daedra had ruined it, then Vvardenfell exploded! Her chest twinged painfully, and she blinked away tears. If only she had been there! Then the Argonians invaded and scattered the Dunmer to the winds, The Stranger idly wonder how much power it would take to pull Vivec from the ashen waters. Though she supposed first she would have to move the Ministry of Truth, perhaps it would be best to use it a foundation for the city. She would think on it more later.

They road slowly down the road to Markarth, it was one of Skyrim's more impressive cities. Previously it had been a Dwemer stronghold but it had long since lost it's Deep Elves residences, for a more human brand of occupants.

The Dunmer chuckled as a thought past through her mind. She wondered what Radac Stungnthumz one of the few Dwemer ghosts that would speak to her. Would think of humans in a Dwemer city, probably something slightly lewd and amusing. Maybe she'd trek back to Mornhold see what was left, she hadn't been down into Bamz-Amschend in a couple hundred years.

"Wonder if the Constructs have recovered from my last visit yet." she mused softly to Talat's ears as she followed behind the Blades. They crossed the last river and road up to the stables, Delphine and Esbern gave their steeds to the stable master, while The Stranger tended to Talat herself. Mostly out of fear he'd bite someones fingers off.

The air was wet as the sun sank in the sky and torch bugs started flying through the air. She have Talat one last pat on the nose before striding up to the city.

When she entered the first brazers were only now being lite, shops were closing and all manner of folk moved toward the tavern. Which thankfully was across the street of the main gate.

Markarth was cut into the grey stone of the mountain, The Stranger walked over to a pipe of Dwemer metal and rested a hand on it. It was warm and she could feel the water rushing through it, she traced her hand over the surrounded stone, she could just pick up the age old etchings. She had once tried to learn Dwemer but finding books was very difficult and her teacher was not very good at simplifying. A good thing that had come out of it was that he managed to awaken Wraithguards twin when she brought him all the pieces.

She rubbed her left forearm, she knew that using Kagrenac's Tools without training was fatal but she had training and dawning the left form of Waithguard had nearly killed her. What said freedom to use Sunder and Keening together was well worth it. She just hoped the scars that Kagreanac's left hand wouldn't reopen again anytime soon, she really didn't fancy explaining that.

The Dragonborn sighed and relaxed for some strange reason Markarth put it her at ease. Maybe it was all the long hours she had spent in Dwemer ruins, talking with the old ghosts. She turned towards the tavern and stopped she knew where Sky Haven temple was. Why not go clear it out now? Better then risking Esbern and Delphine's lives, she was significantly less squishy then they were. The tall Dunmer pressed her lips and went into the tavern to find the Blades.

It did not take her long as they had commandeered two chairs before the large pale fireplace. Weaving her way through the growing crowd, she then knelt between the two. Scaring poor Esdern out of his skin.

"By the Eight how do you move so quietly?" He asked a hand pressed to his chest as he tried to calm his heart.

"I don't, it's loud in here." The Stranger rumbled. "I do not think I will be able to sleep here tonight, if you don't mind Delphine I will head to Sky Haven Temple now and clear the way."

Delphine frowned and opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again as she thought better of it. "Go ahead, we'll meet you there in the morning." she looked a bit pinched when she said it but whatever was bothering her she was swallowing it.

The Stranger nodded and made her way back out of the city, this time leaving Talat in the stables.

Smiled she crossed the small river again and started up the cobbled road. It left liberating to be free of people, she could lift her feet and RUN.

She ran and ran, long strides eating up the ground, around the mountain she flew eastward. Ember red hair blowing in the wind; she past over another bridge to the next sliding to a stop before it, rocks and dirt sent flying. The Dragonborn grinned manically and laughed a great deep laugh, she grew her blade from her back and set off into the Forsworn camp.

The camp was made over a set of streams, the Forsworn had created platforms to live on rather then the stream bed.

There were shouts of "The Reach belongs to the Forswon" and "Die outlander!"

The camp was large but The Stranger had a great deal of pent up energy.

Delphine and Esbern walked up the road to Sky Haven temple, as they had left the horses at a safe distance. As they entered the Forsworn camp they stopped and stared.

Bodies littered the ground before them, heads lay in the muck while the rest of them lay in any other places. Blood dripped down from the platforms, so saturated it had no where else to go. Bits of intestine spilt forth for all to see.

Delphine could track how the battle went, the Forswon had rushed the Dragonborn, at least five at once. A neat line of bodies there torso's cleave apart told her that the Stranger too had charged forward, sweeping her blade below the firsts guard, to hack downwards over the chest of the next. The one after was missing his head, so it was safe to assume that she had removed it on a backward swing. The last body was different, its neck was cleanly snapped with a bloody hand print on his face.

After this scene was another this time the ground held the scars of magic, fire and frost. Delphine could see where and ice cyclone had torn forward and where it stopped having hit its target. Then were was a flash of fire, Delphine scrunched up her face, burning flesh was not a pleasant smell.

She knelt at the end of the ice track and picked up a piece of warped metal, she turned it over and found blood slightly darker then the rest on its underside. Suddenly she was infinitely glad she had allowed the Stranger to go on ahead. These Forsworn must have been quite something to have hurt the Dragonborn.

She stood and surveyed the rest of the camp, it was pretty clear when the Forsorwn had turned to a retreat, the blows were more often magical in nature and there was less blood. The bodies were scattered rather then clumped.

"By the Eight." Esbern said covering his mouth with a hand in shock.

Delphine nodded grimly and helped the old man pick his way through the corpses.

"Just who is The Stranger?" He looked wide eyed at Delphine.

"She hasn't told me much beyond that she used to be the head of Morrowind's Blade Division." Delphine glanced at the body of a Hagraven, unlike the others it had been sliced apart far more then necessary. Maybe The Dragonborn didn't like Hagravens.

"Hmm the last Blade Regional commander would have be Caius Cosades, after him it was some Dunmer though I can't recall the name. She held command till Vvardenfell went up." Esbern walked carefully after Delphine. "I'll check my books after we are settled, I doubt she will be there, but something might stand out." He signed. "Its really is a shame that so much was lost when the Blades fell."

The pair started up the last set of stairs to Sky Haven Temple.

The Stranger cursed under her breath when she was startled awake, voices headed her way. She stared to it up and winced, a fresh wave of blood oozed from her left arm and shoulder.

"Damn mages." she hissed and sent another pulse of healing magic through her arm. It was unwise to use magic exclusively heal wounds, she had learned in her early years that when she had mastered Restoration she got rather lazy on the defence. Now she let most of her wounds heal naturally or at least as naturally as they could for someone so augmented by magic. She turned, set and hand on the bolder she had been sleeping against and used it to heave herself to her feet.

"Morning Ladies!" She called waving her uninjured arm.

"What happened to your arm!" Delphine shouted as she saw the mangled mess.

"Ice storm." The Dunmer shrugged. "Its fine it will heal."

"That is not fine!" Esbern said, fumbling new bandages out of Delphine's pack.

"Really its nothing." The Dragonborn raised her free hand in a placating gesture. "Oww!"

Esbern grabbed the bloody arm and used a knife to cut the dirty bandages away. "By the eight." he whispered as Delphine offered him another cloth to mop up the blood.

As he worked The Stranger resigned to her fate, he noticed a web of scars, first were large white ones, stretch marks though faded with age. Next was a large web of scars all connected and they oozed near black blood.

"Wonder how she got that?" Esbern thought as he began to wrap up her hand and wrist. "They had almost surgical in precision." He finished wrapping the rest of her arm and asked. "What are you doing out here?"

The Stranger shrugged again. "It didn't seem right to explore it without you, I haven't heard anything from inside so hopefully it is empty. I made rather a lot of noise when I went through the camp so hopefully anyone what was inside came out then."

Esbern finished her arm and nodded sharply at his handy work. "Right lets go!"

The first few caves were nothing special the Forsworn had erected tents and created fire pits. As they travelled farther in the caves gave way to stone work. Esbern practically bounced on his heels.

"A beautiful example of early Akaviri stone work!"

The Stranger found that the stone work still looked very Nordic, if considerably more refined like the rare occurrence of Altmeri stonework. Moss hung long over most all of the stonework and she had to frequently duck to avoid walking straight into it or the occasional low hung ceiling.

Finally they came to a wide open room, a simple stone face was on the opposite side of the door and snow drifted down from the vast opening above them. Esbern almost ran into the large room and stopped at some stonework worked into the ground that the Dark elf of the party couldn't identify.

"It's an Akaviri blood seal! It will only open to the blood of a dragon born." He looked at the tall red head expectantly.

"That was awfully single minded of the Akaviri." The Dragonborn said, striding forward and pulling some of the bandages off of a wounded finger. She knelt at the edge of the meter wide circle and touched a bloodly finger to the centre.

There was a boom and the Stranger felt a release of energy and the stone face lifted up inward into the passage it revealed.

"Brilliant!" Delphine exclaimed and stared up the thin passage with Esbern as the Dragonborn rebound her finger.

She followed the two human's slowly, her arm ached she could feel that the old scar's on her left hand and forearm had reopened further and were bleeding profusely. She raised no magic to deal with the injury, knowing it would only make it worse. It was as if some higher power wanted to consistently remind her of her mistake.

The Dark elf leaned against the stone passage just out of sight and gripping her left arm at the joint, gritting her teeth at the pain involved. But the bleeding lessened with a whisper of magic she cast a simple alteration spell over her arm and the bandages went from a dark red to white. Part of her wondered how long this would last, paying for donning that stupid gauntlet, though nicking it off of Vivec had been a wonderful challenge. Getting all the books required for Yagrum Bagarn to harmonize the bloody thing had been challenge as well. Why the heck did Kagrenac make two Waithguard's any way? One for each hand? Did he plan to hit the Heart with Sunder and Keening at the same time? Azura who knows what would have happened then.

With no small amount of effort The Stranger heaved herself up off the wall and walked into the open chamber of Sky Haven Temple, the stones were a dark grey and everything had a thick layer of dust on it. Esbern was pouring over a long stone tableau he called Alduin's wall. The Dark Elf walked stiffly over to a long stone table across from said wall, still gripping her arm.

"A hear it is, this panel here depicts the slaying of Alduin, hmm oh yes I see!" Esbern said gazing at the wall. "The ancient Nords used a shout to defeat Alduin!"

"A shout?" Delphine asked. "What shout?"

"It doesn't say it only says shout." Esbern said pointing at a rune.

"Perhaps the Grey Beards would have an idea." The Dragonborn ventured.

"Good idea, you go ask them." Delphine said.

The Dragonborn gave her a most unamused look and simply said. "Tomorrow."

Glancing at the later half of Alduin's wall as she stood and stopped dead in her tracks. On the wall was first a sign of Oblvion, the Oblvion Crisis probably and behind it was a depiction of a volcano sweeping ash into the air.

"Nothing is ever a consequence is it?" she spoke softly.

"What?" Esbern asked, glancing from her to the wall.

The Stranger pointed at the wall. "The Oblivion Crisis," she moved her hand. "and either the Fall of the Tribunal or The Red year."

"How did you guess?" Esbern asked contemplating the woman against the table.

"The symbols are rather hard to mistake." The Dunmer said.

"Why do you think the Fall of the Tribunal? That happened over two hundred years ago." Esbern said with ever greater interest.

"The ash coming from Vvardenfell could be either the Blight or the Red year." She said pointing again.

"Blight?" Esbern asked.

"A disease created by Dagoth Ur, along with Corpous it was carried on the ash of the mountain." The Stranger said gripping her arm a bit tighter.

"I see." Esbern said rubbing his chin thinking deeply.

With that she got up and set about exploring the Temple, most rooms had beds, tables and other personal storage in them. One had a full sent of ancient blades armour and a sword that crackled with lightning.

The Stranger picked up the katana and stretched her magic out to the enchantments. "A Bane of Dragons, interesting." She awkwardly strapped the blade to her hip and walked back through the main room and out the back passage. It opened up to the mountain side with two Akaviri shrines, more moss coated everything. The Dark elf slowly strode down the low steps, and walked to the edge of the cliff, the space was vast enough that it might have once been a training yard.

She stared absently at the view provided, distant cloud hugged mountains, roads and rivers. Time lost all meaning, finally Esbern appeared beside her at some point in her staring as the sun sank ever lower.

The Stranger spoke to those distance mountains though softly, not looking at the elder man beside her.

"My name is Nerevar." The words hung in the air, the world shivered for the name was close to the woman's true name. Nirn's skin flexed and quaked the world, soon, soon the woman's true name would be spoken again and Nirn would be thrown back into conflict. The name of power, the title that would last for all of eternity that would transcend Nirn itself and stride through the planes of Oblivion.


	7. Chapter 7

**Short, but after thinking it over, the game story is the least interesting thing I plan to do here. So welcome back the Nerevarine, she gets stuff done much faster then a tiny little Dragonborn.**

Throat of the World

Nerevar left after Esbern and Delphine went bed, her arm still bleed. She had downed a potion to replenish her blood but was feeling more then a bit faint. As was the nature of the curse, it didn't just inflict the wound once, but over and over again. Delphine had stabled their horses at the foot of the mountain, the Dark Elf glared at Talats heavy tack for a long moment before sighing.

Talat poked his nose at her lip left hand and cocked his head.

"Its nothing." Nerevar gave his cheek a pet, before starting on the long process of tacking up the large horse one handed.

Talat was surprisingly tolerate of the whole lengthy procedure, finally Nerevar strapped her long blade to his saddle and swung up into it. Talat picked their path back to the main road, Nerevar just nudged him with her heal to go east.

The red head cradled her arm to her chest and for once didn't mind the slow careful pace. By her guessing it wouldn't be to much longer, anyone not as enhanced and warped as she was would have died long ago.

By the time they got to Rorikstead the land was only lite by torchbugs and the moon. Nerevar had re-bandaged her arm and covered it. While she was not tired, not truly but she stopped there to let Talat rest, her arm had finally healed again the scars fresh and red. Hidden in her room she ran a hand over the network covering her left forearm. Vivec had tried to heal her, but not even he could break this curse. She was sure someday she would be rid of it, but till then she would endure.

Lying back in the too short bed, with a wave of her hand she summoned Barilzar's Mazed Band, while it had been cursed, after Almalexia got her hands on it she had broken the curse. The grey ring had to small red jewels flanking a black one, even she did not know what they were. Nerevar rolled the ring over her fingers, with it she could just teleport wherever she wished. As well as open rifts in time and space, however she liked Talat, she wasn't about to return him and using the Band would show her hand to everyone who knew anything about magic.

She pursed her lips, but Alduin needed killing and she put good gold on that she didn't need Dragon Rend to kill Alduin, she just needed to find the dragon. The first born of Akatosh vs the Mantle of Lorkhan, she had a good feeling she knew who would come out on top of that one. She closed her eyes and reached down within herself.

The Heart of Lorkhan pumped within, beat for beat, it was stored away safe in the Clockwork city but it was always connected to her. Sotha Sil, Almalexia, Vivec and Dagoth Ur had all shared the Hearts power. She licked her lips, she had almost joined Dagoth Ur when she faced in deep within the core of Vvardenfell. Instead she did what Azura demanded and did battle with the False God, kicked him off the rickety bride into the lava of the volcano. Wraithguard and its twin on her hands, Sunder and Keening in her hands. Even now her heart beat sped up, first she struck the Heart of Lorkhan with Sunder, then with Keening, you were supposed to use the crystal blade to refine the power that Sunder tore from the Heart.

She remember how young and foolish she had been, memories of being a slave fresh in her mind. The heat and surrounded her, Dagoth Ur flying back up to protect the heart, she had set Sunder and Keening aside and grabbed the Heart with both hands. The dunmer remember the words that had left her lips. "Be Mine." And the Heart obeyed, now power filled her every pore. She slipped Barilzar's Mazed Band onto her finger, felt its magic flow into her, but know she felt something more. Nerevar felt her Dragon Soul awaken, she felt it twist and turn become part of the greater power she already wielded.

Nerevar opened her volcanic eyes, these eye belonged to a God. She rose and walked from her room, to the innkeep she went, the Nord shrank away from the Dunmer. Nerevar summoned a gold pouch of a thousand gold coins. Calmly she said. "Take care of Talat, I will come for him."

The Innkeep took the coin and nodded.

Nerevar strode out into the cold night air, she walked to her steed and stroked his cheek. "I must do this, I will come back and together we will change the face of Nirn. Don't hurt anyone while I am gone."

Talat was sad to see her go, but he was a very intelligent horse and knew real power when he saw it. He let out a sad whinny and pressed his nose to her stomach. Nerevar smiled and gave his cheek one last pet then teleported to High Hrothgar.

She appeared in the main room, causing Arngeir to leap out of his skin in shock. "Dragonborn!" The old man pressed a hand to his chest to calm his fast beating heart.

"Dragon Rend." Nerevar said.

A thousand different response rose up in Arngeir's throat, but there was something in the Dunmer's eyes that stilled his tongue. Instead he said. "I do not know it, our teacher might."

"Where is he?" Nerevar asked.

"At the top of the mountain, the Throat of the World. Lok Vah Koor is the shout you will need to clear the way. It means sky, spring, summer." He shared his understanding in a blaze of golden energy that seeped into her soul.

Nerevar nodded. "Thank you." But rather then walking, she flicked her fingers and teleported to the Throat of the World. A view of the whole of Skyrim greeted her, the air was thin and cold but in her state she did not feel anything. A dragon of a dark brown scales looked down from his perch on his word wall, he saw her in a way no one else did.

Paarthurnax spoke first. "Greetings Unahzaalhunrah."

Nerevar blinked twice at the elder dovah, "Well that explains a few things."

"You suspected?" Paarthurnax asked, he would feel great power in the woman, her name came to him.

"I doubted that the grey beards created the Way of the Voice on their own." Nerevar confirmed.

"Wise you are Unahzaalhunrah." Paarthurnax said, in his rumbling voice.

"Why do you call me that?" Nerevar asked.

"How much do you know of Dragon tongue?" Paarthurnax asked.

Nerevar sat in the snow, flicked her fingers a few times to create an aura to shield her from the weather, for comforts sake. "I know that the elder speaks first, I know that shouts are made up of three words of power."

Paarthurnax nodded. "Names are also three words, yours blazes with you. I see it clearly, and I speak it to you, your truest self."

This intrigued the goddess. "And what name do you see dovah?"

"The Eternal Hero God, Unahzaalhunrah." Paarthurnax rumbled.

Nerevar grimaced. "I am a hero no longer."

"One should not deny their Sil, their nature forever." Paarthurnax said. "I see you Nerevarine, all that are and all that you have been, and a glimpse of what you can become."

Nerevar looked away from the dragon, to the word wall beneath him, after a moments concentration she quieted Lorkhan's power within her. Without it she felt cold and hallow, like a piece of her had been stolen away. "You see much. I am forgotten, I wished it so." She spoke softly.

"Not forgotten, your names still rests on the lips of many, it has not been long for some. Call for them and they will answer Unahzaalhunrah. I heard your name when you faced the False Gods, when you bested Hircine. Many remember you. Alduin does not know you, he does not care to truly look at those he believes are lesser. That will be his downfall, you are not only Dragonborn but Lorkhan as well, you need not Dragon Rend, though it will aid you. This is the place were Alduin was cast on out on the seas of time, the time wound remains. Bring a Kel, an Elder Scroll to this place and see into the past. Learn Dragon Rend from those who created it, use it to cast down Alduin and teach him just who he is. And who you are Unahzaalhunrah." Paarthurnax boomed, he looked forward to seeing the warrior of the ages rise up again. He could see just how all would change under her voice, he looked forward to it.

Nerevar in all her centuries had never even seen an Elder Scroll, finding one appealed to her greatly. Vivec had achieved CHIM, Nerevar did not forgive him for leaving her behind, an Elder Scroll might help her track him down. The Dunmer pursed her lips. "Any idea where a Scroll might be?"

Paarthurnax turned his head northward. "Their is a dwemer city north of here Alftand, it is south of Winterhold. I remember the Dwemer taking a scroll down within it."

Nerevar stood, dusted the snow from herself and pulled her favourite armour from her magic pocket. It was styled after the High Ordinator armour but gold rather then purple and was much smoother and flowing in design, it had been of her first creations with Lorkhan's power. Trueflame and Hopesfire found their places on her hips, Nerevar signed deeply and awakened Lorkhan's power again.

The Nerevarine was back.


End file.
